


Of Young and Old Blood.

by He11Haven



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Glory Hole, Hunter - Freeform, Original Character(s), Priest Kink, degrading, old english, twist ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/He11Haven/pseuds/He11Haven
Summary: Maria enters into the healing church to confess her feelings to the curch's reverend. Luckily it seems like there is a hole in the confessional for just such purposes.Seriously though this was is hardly normal smutt and is mostly just a writing experiment. I was just trying to exercise my writing muscles and try and new stuff out, seemed like a good genre to try.[Gloryhole] [Oral] [M/F] [old english] [twist ending] [degrading (mild)]
Kudos: 14





	Of Young and Old Blood.

BloodBorne: Of Young and Old Blood

Sleep walking

Evening, The voice comes across the room  
I’m standing on my knees  
I’m panting, breathing heavily  
There’s rugburns burning me

Wake, try to remember is  
Grab a glass from the cabinet  
Close my eyes, Subconscious trapping it now  
Try to pry it open 

Whispering winds swept through the alleyways, creeping through the oppressive inky blackness of the night. It’s opulent nature equal as the beggarly degenerates that stalk the streets. Their blood already rotted and festering, blighted by the healing plasma that had turned them into the beasts they were now.

The city burned, light dancing in the silhouette of the towering victorian lodgings looming over the haggard streets equally embraced by the draining monotonal darkness. 

Lady Maria, the huntress who had lead the most current hunt, stepped through the dampened cobble, eyeing the shuttered windows with a weary exhaustion. Still her heart pumped the sanguine ichor to her cheeks, a rapid pattering of gushing degeneracy, egged on by that steady thumping in her ears. 

She loved the high father, as all godly children did. Though far from a child she was, the supple curved edge of her body rounded by years of age and hardened by a life hard lived. Eloquently her clattering heels passed through the entrance to the healing church, it’s walls still open to the sick and weary alike, it’s respite not far from the echoed howls of beasts, even if the stone lay cold and silent in the warm, golden huen halls of the old gods.

The commune was silent while the echoing dissonant chorus of the deep bellowing father gave his sermon. The pews practically rocked, or perhaps it were her knees that collapsed under his voice, she was a woman of strength, the woman who monsters feared, the slayer of the slayer and yet she crumpled in the presence of the tall omnipresence before her, the preacher. 

His hair was short, ebon, his beard was a rough stubble etched permanently into his skin from each morning shave which never seemed transfused, a permanent feature to his face. The loud wooden door made his gaze trail leveled up from the gospel laid bare in the pages he held.

Though he did not stumble through the rhythm of his words, the smile that curled into the rough edged lines of his face, eyes curving from joyful surprise. Any reservations that the hunter harboured sunken in the docks before they had found the sea.

Gehrman warned his second in command eonic times about the healing church, Maria headed his words as a dutiful student in the blooded arts. But still her flesh was that of a woman, not just a hunter, she had already given her soul to each of her allies, brothers and sisters in the hunt. She still needed the presence of the high father, needed his voice, needed the dreams of passion and pleasure, of blood and teeth that etched into her memory. 

Fears that she would lose those dreams if her mind was deprived of these little voyeuristic meetings. Only watching, only listening, remembering his voice, his face, imagining his hands, his body, in the blackness of her most private moments. Moments where her muffled pleasure would leak between her fingers and her body would writhe against the desire to chase him down like a beast. 

“Maria, we in this hallowed house are honoured by your presence.” His voice, so close, speaking her name. She blinked looking around to see the chapel had emptied, perhaps she had lost herself in the memory of fantasies unrequited, in the pleasures of her own body. Still the tall pale man nearly a foot and a half taller than the woman below him, he loomed.

Maria looked up at him with a gaze that blurred ever so little, so close to the subject of her fantasy. Her mouth salivated, her head leaning back to submissively show him her throat, an unconscious side effect arching her back to look up at him. 

“You flatter me, father.” She bowed to him, though her back stopped, wanting to appear more womanly in his grace, wishing his perception to be of her not a hunter but her as a feminine creature. She curtsied instead. “I always enjoy the words which meet mine ears in these halls. Their content eases my weary heart.”

He smiled again and bent his own spine into a honoured bow. “Then you honour not these halls but my own self, I’m grateful that someone of such dignity and station comes to hear words spoken from such a lowly vessel.” 

Her mouth opened to speak, words leaving the crimson edge of her lips before her restraint could tapper them down. “I would not refer to one so great as lowly.” Spoken quickly, then followed by a recovery, “You speak well, clearly, a charisma possessed by few and harnessed so eloquently by less.”

His visage unchanged stoic and joyful, he spoke lavishing each words with the gruff bellows from deep in his effervescent soul “Kinds words from the Lady herself, a compliment I’m deeply humbled by, were it be that I could return them but for all my charisma and eloquency I falter in such a decadent description.”

Hunters never fainted, not in the presence of beasts, blood or death itself. Maria, the second of all hunters nearly did, a swooning that made her take a step forward to catch herself, momentarily closer than was proper or respectable for a gendered pairing as theirs. Her gaze flinching from his, an act she chastised and berated herself for, flinching was weakness in the face of anything opposed to her.

“Father…” Her voice started quisitively. “The head of the church does not enact as the role of confessor, but an exception could be made if inquired upon?” Her tiltered eyes drawing the lines of detritus stone underfoot.

The head of this chapel, a godly man who had never looked more than scerne and peaceful in any year of his life turned his head, grin never wavering as the gleam in his pupils looked more like that of a beast. The atavism to a beastial state flicking not more than a candle in the tempest.

“My lady, the church's focus lies in the sole practical healing of the blood. Faith and soul, left discarded like many have discarded confession. I ought decline, unbecoming is it of me to give preferential benefits, though I sheepishly admit mine heart feels a kinship and desire.” He gave a pertinent pause “To relight the ways of old, even if just for one single soul.” 

Unwavering, his hand rose to sweep by her face as each word fell from his lips, wafting in the air gusted by simple breezes. Her cheek followed the siren’s call of his fingers, mouth parting to devour each of his words. Entranced by the motion of each rhythmic syllable. 

Passing through the gate of the confessional she sat down, the comfortable padded seat letting the mound of her supple, decadent rear flatten and encompass the miniscule bench. It’s interior a wooden grooved surface scratched along by the nails of those tormented by sin and embiebed degeneracy. 

She wondered if her own growing, sloshing thoughts were of their ilk, if she too would writhe and growl in madness of the blood. Perhaps it would be a different ichorous which left her to writhe and howl in this chamber.

The clang of his door closing was a gavel to the sentence of her fate, she could no longer turn around, this beast was naut escapable. It had been a burning, one in her core, her loins growing from the very being of her heart for many, many lonely nights now, she was but the bait, ready to offer herself to the beast so that she might also snare it. Twas as the hunter, to be the hunter.

“Child, you carry a heavy soul, as well as many other burdens, what is it that weighs on your mind?” His voice was echoing in the small chamber, so deep and low that the vibrations rocked her frame, molting her like an insect and causing her to shiver out of the shell she once was.

“Father I fear for my soul, I have not sinned but I wish so deeply in my being to do so. I know it is not right, that I should stay my hand yet I keep tempting myself closer.” Maria let her words fall freely, not holding back with the wall between them a safe barrier to abridge their conversation. Save she take the weaker man how she pleased, fearing that beast inside her. “I have a dark desire inside me, Father. I crave the flesh of man, unliken to the beasts I fight, that I fear transcending to, I crave the flesh of mortal men in a way that my own cannot satisfy. A wet, hawty desire, driven in lewd intent.”

Still she held onto her last shred, the dignity which she kept, not outright confession but enough that perhaps he would deny her, tell her that unmartial desires of the flesh were unbecoming of a lady much less a huntress.

“Lewd thoughts may be frowned upon, their corruption evident, however it is the specifics of this desire that will eat at the soul. If this man has yet not been betrothed. Perhaps you may yet still avoid damnation, my child.”

Maria held her tongue, for fear of it’s betrayal to her will, it wishing to divulge her desires in full to him. Instead when the words left through her throat, dancing across her tongue it was leveled, mischievous. “ I fear father that this man is out of reach, he has taken an oath, to never lay with a woman, to live without sin as a man of the cloth.” Then a playful note hit her tone. “I fear for the man himself, knowing the things I wish to indulge in.”

His interest piqued, the tone to his deep voice hitting a questioning playful note. Even if still professional. “A nuaghty machination to be sure, seeking to defile a man of the cloth, righteous in his intent. The church is kind and ever forgiving, if you truly do repent then you will be forgiven, but before your soul can be clean, the extent of it’s filth must be revealed. Tell me child, to what extent did you wish to commit this sin?”

He wished to know of her desire? What a flattering notion, she felt the heat rise in her body like embers in the wind. Tentatively she reached for the hem of her silken garments, rolling the edge of it’s pallad surface up the ivory complexion of her thigh. In the opulent supple crux of her waist the bundle of garment found its home. “My body craves his entangled with mine, the pulsating girth of him wrapped in my fingers, pressed against my face, my cheek, so I can feel the sanguine thrum of his heart, his life essence. Would I lavish it with my affection that I could, as much as his heart desires until I can accept his appreciation. I’d devour each savoury drop, adjuring for more .” 

Sharp inhale from the other side of his temporal barrier, he was enjoying himself? Little doubt was left, she took in a gust of air, nimble fingers performing their profane task. They started over the silken lingerie, feeling her dampness through the ebon sheer fabric, needy juices clinging to her digits as they worked on the sensitive opening.

“I fear I might suck the soul from his body, I crave the taste, I wouldn't wish him to leave, I’d never have him be apart from my tongue or throat.” crawling up her throat, a soft gasping moan alerted the father to her deeds, she was openly indulging her desires before him, despite being a respected lady she was spreading her legs before him like a common whore. Did he think less of her? She desperately hoped so, wished for naut more than him to treat her like the pleasure beast she so desperately wanted to be. “I’d wish for him to bind me to his pedestal, to use my seductive silken lips as he pleased any time he wished.”

She passed through the veil of the thin veneer covering her womanhood. Two fingers taking the plunge into her dripping sex, curling tendrils of pleasure weaving through the convulsing silken walls of her sultry folds. Drinking up the vigorous thrusting digits, a lewd squelching arua permeating the barrier between them. His ears verily heard the echo of her lust, drinking in each sloshing utterance and guttural moan of pleasure. Were it possible to hold herself aback, she would. Were it that she had the willpower to deny such carnal desire.

Maria was possessed, dark intent driving her hands forward driving herself closer to orgasm, the knowledge of her fixation listening intently through the perceived veil of anonymity. Gripping her chest, tweaking the sensitive nub of her breast through the course garment of her hunter garb. A curse passed through her lips, hawty breath escaping the gap and filling the small chamber with the rising heat of her body, scent of her juices and sounds of her bliss.

“I-I want to feel his eyes on my barren flesh, watching my claws draw lines over it’s pallad surface, so see the disgust on his face so I can writhe in its damning complexion.” Her words stuttered in groaning pleasure, broken by the twisting of the counted thrice fingers driving into her greedy hole. Drool spilt from her hanging jaw, pooling over the simple pale bust of her figure. Tongue hanging out as her eyes twitched and crossed, mouth coiling like a serpent into a blissful, euphoric, wicked smile.

“Father~ F-Father!” Her voice a shrill shrieking cry of pleasure while her body battled the rocking waves of chaotic thunder thrumming in her core. A geyser of euphoria spraying against the wall between them, painting the darkened stained wood with her need. Twitching, mumbled, a wry whine of satisfaction easing through her strong frame, still desperate and wanting more, she needed more, the beast inside her never satisfied. “Father~” the sultry, breathy note ringing to his waiting ears.

Wearily she leaned against the drenched, dampened by her joy wall, face flesh with the wooden surface, unbothered by the content covering it’s ridged texture. “Father, I fear I’ve been a naughty girl, hardly deserving the title of lady, I've made such a mess in the house of our gods.” She purred a loving drawl, each word noted with angry desire and verile intent, fingers already back to work at the greedy entrance to her waiting womb. “Which punishment would atone for these grievous litany of sins?”

The wooden under him creaked, sighing in relief as the silent observer of this depraved act stood to attention. Would he abandon the sultry slut through the dark oaken wall, or join her in the booth and show her exactly what the culmination of parts this godly man was made of. She waited, impatiently and with a new vigor in her fingers, knowledge that regardless of his response the degradation would be enough for the depraved slut, driving her to keep a methodic tempo on her empathic button.

“My child…” His voice was threatening, a chill of tenuous thrill and fear coiling her spine, shaking from the icy excitement running through her like a current. “It appears the beast blood runs deeper in you than we had first suspected. It appears that a direct exorcism will have to be performed.” A tantalizing pause hung in the air. “Personally.”  
The space between them changed, becoming bare. The wooden grate shifted and moved, a silent confidant to the endless sins of man, laid to rest and given pause, shielded from the perverse sinful act that would take place this night. Maria watched with eager illation, seeing the final barrier between her and her obsession finally falter. Surprised to see through the small hole between their booths, an appendage passed through. How fearsome, this weapon was standing proud, a spear with the width of her blunderbuss. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic and captivating with each tempting bob of it’s pulsating slightly dampened flesh, hard as iron, long as her face with a threatening meaty girth to spare. The organ meant her harm, a euphoric, stimulating, debilitating intention. 

Would it be that she were a lady, she might have balked at the grotesque monster before her. Were it that she was a lady, her mouth wouldn’t salivate at the idea of her body wrapped around him as a sleeve. Her womanhood wet, slick and desperate for him, it would have to wait. For she was not a lady, no she was simply a tool of pleasure for her father, as she was a tool of violence for the hunters. Her pride in the hunt knew some boundaries, the dark sanguine work. While this other life, this new purpose was one she hoped to also find pride in, with addition a multitude other sins.

“Indulge, child. Show me the vulgar depth of this hunger, show me the grip of this unholy curse. Explore each carnal pleasure, lay bare your soul so that I may begin in purifying it, one euphoria at a time.” His words made her shiver, cold tendrils of excitement running up the rigid structure of her spine.

How could one refuse so gracious a gift, such a wonderful implement of her own toture. Becoming it would be, of a newly appointed vilely possessed cocksleeve to disappoint her chosen master.

“Such a vascular and threatening beast you’ve presented me with this hunt, it’s texture so silken” her hand running along it’s pallade surface, nails dragging against the reddened ivory surface of his length. “Yet its make so rigid, it’s hunger and heat so savage. It seeks to rip me in twain, rob me of my sanity and leave me but a drooling drunken fool, does it not?” A small giggle escaped his lips, which themselves pressed against the hungry beast before her. 

“It’s scent alluring, heady, manly.” She buried the length against her cheek, smearing that scent into her flesh and skin, then the other cheek. She would bathe herself in this scent if it were possible, wake up in it, feel it on her every waking moment. Obsession hardly seemed to fit, it was too meek a word, Maria revelled in the texture, the musk. There was nothing in this world, not a church, or the booths. There was only the rigid cock, the heavy dangling balls and each dribbling droplet of his desire which ran over its slick savage lining. “Such a taste, so savoury. Unliken to other meat, I crave its body, each curve and bend. I wonder how much of such a decadent filling feast this vessel could partake?” 

Slick still with her own juices, her hand wrapped around it’s girth, finding that despite her grip accustomed to many hilts of beast slaying weapons, this new profession hosted a handle she was ill equipped for. Her fingers wouldn’t connect, the shaft larger than her small hands could work. Equipped with two, her second hand joined the first, wrapping her velvety soft skin around the flesh rod of her master, stroking his powerful cock with steady, forceful strokes. She wanted to make him feel good, wanted to make him moan, she wanted to revel in this sin, joined in euphoric bliss with this man.

Even though she was staring down at the beastly phallis, its daunting presence enough to strike fear in the bravest, most determined hunter, Maria’s dark appetite was not sated. She dove down, pressing her lips to the heavenly bungle of skin and seed, pressing her nose into his testicles and taking in their heady odor. 

Tongue lapped at its underside, her brain unable to fathom the musk, the scent that wormed into her brain as though tentacles of dark beasts prodded at each curve of the pink and gray organ. Maria felt her mind rewiring, becoming driven mostly by her primal lusts, she was here to pleasure him, to service his manhood and she took such a great amount of pleasure in coming to understand her place, understand her position. A position that she accepted with an open mouth, lips parting to let one holy ball fall onto her pink silken tongue, lolling it between her lips, against her teeth, lavishing it in spit and drool, caring little of the mess rolling down her chin and onto her exposed breast.

Droplets of pre dripped unceremoniously over her eyelid, smearing her pretty face with it’s steamy ichor. She felt filthy, moaning at how depraved that sensation of pleasure rocked her at that. Gorging on his scrotum while stroking his meat, she moved from one ball to the other in a feverish slurping display. She acted more like a beast, desperate to pleasure her master. 

Maria pulled back, sadness wafting over her as the lack of fleshy scent coaxing her lustful desire, she fought the urge to dive back in but saw the way his body twitched and felt his engorged member hardened even further at her efforts.

Then she let the orb come free from her vivacious lips, escaping the soft silken pillows with a wet pop. Her teeth found purchase in those soft pillows, digging into her own lip and looking at the wet slobbery pools left on the surface of his sex. Pride welled up inside her, dripping down her tights into another personally adorned pooling smear of juices. Faintly her mind thought of punishments, dark and tantalizing in their forbidden grandeur. Her mind couldn’t focus to grip those perverse desires, solely driven by her duty to pleasure she couldn’t stray.

She went back to her faithful worship of his length, tongue ordaning it’s mighty veins with slick tendrils of viscous saliva. Dutifully she lavished each imperial inch of his cock, forgetting herself to the illation of service. She savoured each twitch, each tongueful of manly viscus left her reeling, light of head and craving more. She lapped eagerly at the member before her, intently cleaning it’s surface. The point of her tongue stabbing and scraping at the underside of his capped head, hands fondling with diligent fingers at the wet, slobbery sack that had left her maw.

His groan of pleasure woke her mind from its fervent zeal.

That was a moan of bliss, one escaping his mouth. That mouth she would hear preach the word of the good gods, one so sweet a thick, now dripping with lustful desire. Because of her, her mouth. Power ebbs in the recesses of her frame, pride welling in that knowledge.

Maria doubled her effort, sucking eagerly at the sides of his meat, tongue lashing while her palms stroked and worked its iron surface. She flattened her palm against the crowned head, letting the twollowed sensitive surface of his pre and her drool work to ease the smooth texture of her palm to ease the rough treatment. 

“Desperately I wonder, mind gnawing at the edges of insanity. Is the father succumbing to temptation? Doth the dark witch work her trippiantly nimble tongue against the dawning beast?” She paused so he could feel the vibrations of her chuckling against his shaft. “Or were it that you wanted more? I wish to feel your girth stretching my throat, filling my maw with pulsating meat and I eagerly seek to meet my lips to the flat of your hips.” She kissed the tip of his member, sucking ever so slightly on the hole, taking a dress droplet of pre onto her tongue to savour it’s body and texture. “Varily I hasten myself to that end, but I relent, unwilling to take advantage of the father’s kindness. I would not force myself upon him.” Another wet sloppy kiss, this time her pink organ slighted from betwixt her pillowy lips and lavished the underside of his crowned giant. “I crave only a command.”

A pause before in addition her melodic tones continued. “Master~”

A curse most unbecoming of a holy man passed his lips, she loved that guttural note. She could feel the tension opposite wall, he wanted to take her, use her like the sleeve she had committed herself to being. Would he ask, her mind raced to him just closing the distance, coming into her booth and taking her how he wanted.

Maria loved that idea more than could be expressed.

Still his short, lust driven breath caught and his drawing mutterings came through the oaken surface of the booth. “Allow me to purify that whorish mouth of yours, so filthy, I’ll make you clean with my seed, drown those demons inside you with holy white.” Then there was an edge to his tone. “Your lips. The base of my cock. Now.”

He hadn’t bit off the last of his sentence before Maria had her lips against the tip of his length, kissing his head before pushing the head past them, letting him feel the flush sensation of her lips gouged by his ironed member. She took inch after inch of his erection into her maw, tongue making lazy, slow and sensual gyrations on the underside.

His frame shuddered each time her tongue slithered through the groove under his cap, her lips, padded clouds, tightened around him and pulled back only to crawl forward so he could feel each inch of her velvety mouth grappled with the beast. A beast the huntress reluctantly admitted to herself she might not be equipped to handle.

Throat accepting his tip she felt her gag reflex tighten and constrict around the titanic invader, so savagely splitting her open. She wondered if for all her mighty rhetoric that she would actually have met her match, an opponent she couldn’t best. She tried to force more into the tight confines of her throat, it writhed and bucked against the invader, milking him all the more but denying her the satisfaction of feeling her lips pressed in flesh with his pelvis.

He didn’t seem to mind the slow build up, nor the light, repressed gagging, that give little jolting tugs, reverberating rumbles through his cock. Its thrumming chorus a delightfully insane muttering through the fabric of his being. 

Maria pulled back from his length, a desperate life saving breath mixed with viscous secretions dribbling down the back of her throat. “Father~” Her voice a whimpering moan, keening for approval, knowing she hadn’t completed her task. Her fists pumped vigorously over the foot of hardened manhood looming over face, intently staring at the droplet of precum leaking out of the tip, catching it with her tongue. “Master~”

She dove back forward, renewed in faith and devotion, his eager rod pierced further into her throat, fighting the urge to wretch on his shaft she took more and more, feeling her gullet bulge with grotesque oddity. The vascular spear piercing ever deeper into her slick throat. She felt more cock than human, brain melting to delirious states of sanity, bending and warping to close her other senses, taste, scent, touch, the feeling of his cock filling her oxygen deprived lungs was all she could comprehend. 

Her whole being became a thing of his design, encompassed by the overpowering strength of such a tool, her throat a sleeve for his use, scent refusing to share space in her lung for oxygen, his cock consuming her as much as she consumed it. It reshaped her brain, leaving little room for thoughts besides the overwhelming pleasure of servicing such a thing, her hands only purpose to pump the length not forced into her gullet, lips and tongue dutifully servicing without question. Maria was his plaything, a doll of pleasure made fit for his flesh.

“Good girl.” He breathed, gritting his teeth at her tightness. “Blessed with divine instruction, given most holy a purpose, heavenly in body. So eager to purge your mortal sin.” His voice was straining, he was tip-toeing the edge of his pleasure, wanting to elongate the process but it was clear he was unused to such perverse proclivities. 

With a heavy hearty she had to pull away, talent only took her so far, each inch a victory but her tight inexperienced throat wouldn’t grapple such a determined foe, so unyielding in its stalwart design. It would allow her no quarter, she was driven off it, sliding down it’s like as though a sword drawn from its sheath. Rather than it leaving, it was more like she limpy fell off its majesty. Her tongue followed it out, leaving her knees bent with her behind marinating in a puddle of her wet wetness. She looked at the slick, hardened pole with unrefined lust, primal and desperate she cursed the inches left bare, a testament to her inabilities. 

She wanted to find his release, to swallow each thick, heavy discharge and drink heavily from the seed runneth over. She wished with every fiber of her being to taste the essence of his life, her jaw felt its ware, her throat was raw and her neck had an ache. The mind was willing but the body faltered. 

“Father, the body has met its limit, bested by the beast, I cannot go on.” Breathy gasps wafting over each dripping inch of his dangerously sensitive meat. “I still need your blessing, your seed, purify me, claim me.” Low and husky her last words- “Use me.”

Her mouth hung open, diving as deep as she could fathom, taking in until his cock broke past the back of her throat and bent hellward. She held, held on his length, held the rim of confession and prayed to a forgotten god for the strength to hold on. 

Hips crashed into her, throat stretching from the spear gouging into her gullet. Using all her might to hold on she took each rocking thrust to her skull with the steady grace of a hunter. Her body womanly and writhing shivered at each savage attack, womanhood aching, whorish hole dripping into the puddle below her. She was finally the sleeve she dreamt of, finally the tool of sexual implementation she had been dreaming of for so long, a doll by no other name.

His hips moved in feverish momentum, determined and sure of their course. His gyration was brutal in execution, caring little for her wellbeing while he managed to close the gap of length she was unable to, pushing his cock into her throat until her nose bent backwards against the harsh flesh of his pelvis.

Close, he was close. His balls tightening, churching in her fingers, his cock twitched and his breath grew heavy and hard, he cursed under his breath and Maria readied herself for the blessing she had worked tirelessly to achieve. His sticky, gushing yoke. 

The first tenuous rope of salty spunk clung to her tongue, spilling down her through his viscus tendrils. Each heavy sputtering shot clogging her abused and sore windpipe. Desperately she tried to swallow but eventually the taxing task became too laborious and she just accepted the sputtering mess pouring back up her nose, over her lips, spilling out onto her exposed, heaving cleavage, pooling in the heavenly plump line of her lithe cleavage. She caught some in her hands, cupped like a bowl under her chin, trying to maintain as much of his degenerate gift as she could. When he pulled back a strand of slick seed splattered her forehead, the last drizzling glops of his release evident over her soft womanly features.

“Thank you father~” She purred.

“We are not done, my child. The weed of your sin grows deeper than such a simple rite may expel. I trust you will be cooperative in a further, more thorough procedure?” His dark laughter betrayed ill intention under thinly guised words.

Maria, still dripping with his essence, simply smiled. “I am yours father, to use in holy purpose, to use as you please. I am holy for your pleasure.”

Fin?

Epilogue-

“With devious intent she felt the door shudder, opening to reveal the dark master who had taken her throat savagely, his eyes speaking of dark deeds yet to be revealed. He looked more of a beast than man. This holy reverend reduced to the straightest G this side of brookstation, seeking only the baddest bitches to dick down, his goal, clap cheeks like this shit patty cake.”

“CUT!” But it was too late, tha actress playing Maria was already doubling over in the booth laughing and the man playing the father was hunching over silently laugh crying. “You have a script!”

“I know” The narrator confirmed, elbowing the cameraman beside him. “But seriously who wrote this shit? It’s not even in old english.”

“It’s porn” The direction reminded him in a tired voice that spoke of too many cigarettes and late nights in cheap motels. “It’s not supposed to be good, it's supposed to suck.”

“I thought that was my job?” The woman asked taking off her wig to reveal she was very much a redhead and not the white haired huntress. “If the script is doing it why should I? It would save me a ton of jaw pain.”

“Sorry about that.” The man was still laughing and holding his gut now.

The woman faked a concerned face and put on her best high school brat voice. “Oh sweety did you think I meant you? Oh sorry about that.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t be in porn if I wasn’t sure about this.” He said motioning to the still dripping length of cock between his legs. “Hey speaking of, can someone get me a towel and a water bottle? This outfit is fucking hot!” 

“Yeah do I have to wear this the whole time? Like aren’t I supposed to be sexy, there are so many belts on this thing.” The woman complained.

The director pressed his fingers to his temples, debating the merits of claiming insanity for tax evasion purposes. “Already we’re done, we’ll pick this scene up tomorrow, and seriously read your fucking lines, get the doll and the wolf costume out, scene 6 everyone!”

The crew moving to get the next scene set up, a shitty looking blow up doll and a guy in a werewolf costume who had the look of someone who went wanted to go to med school at 16 but figured maybe they could take a year off, but found now find themselves in a discount fursuit about to fuck a blow up doll on camera under the name johnny two feet, and just doesn’t know how to tell their mom where the money is coming from. So he looked only marginally better than the director.

“And! Action!”

Fin proper


End file.
